


Lie with Me Awhile

by isuilde



Category: Free!
Genre: M/M, MakoRin Week, also this might be a bit confusing i'm sorry, day 3 prompt, let me just warn you that this might make you hate me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-15
Updated: 2014-12-15
Packaged: 2018-03-01 15:31:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2778302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/isuilde/pseuds/isuilde
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They lie for a full day. Both of them, and the universe, too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lie with Me Awhile

**Author's Note:**

> MakoRin Week, day three prompt: Lies.
> 
> This calls for angst with a touch of fluff. Maybe.

**04.**

“Wow,” Makoto stares at the ridiculously extravagant spread on their kitchen table—a pot of hot soup, still bubbling upon their tiny shabu stove, sitting in the middle of plates of thinly sliced meat, mushrooms, tofu, and various fresh vegetables from hakusai, turnip and mizuna to daikon, taro roots, carrots and onion. On the side are plates of pickles and tempura, two small bowls containing agedashi tofu, and a plate of yakitori. “This is amazing.”

Rin huffs proudly, arms crossing over his chest, grinning wide. “Of course it is. I didn’t spend hours slaving in the kitchen for nothing.” That gets him a wide-eyed look and a slight pout, and Rin laughs. “Come on, let’s eat. I’m starving.”

“You are?” Makoto sounds surprised. Rin’s breath nearly catches in his throat, at how casual Makoto sounds. “I’m still so full though—we did have a big lunch.”

Rin pulls the chair and throws himself on it, chooses to ignore the fact that Makoto had eaten literally nothing at their usual restaurant, even with Rin ordering his favorite dishes and humoring Makoto’s wish to share a meal. “That’s hours ago, Makoto. Sit down, let’s eat.”

“They all look so delicious…” there’s a spark in Makoto’s eyes when he finally takes a seat across Rin, taking in the whole feast. “I don’t know what to eat first.”

“I’m going to eat all the meat if you’re wasting your time staring,” Rin warns, manages to pull the corners of his lips into a wide, sharp grin he usually has no problem in flashing. He picks up his chopsticks in a challenging gesture. “Nabe is all about war, Makoto.”

“Eeeh, no faiiir—“ Makoto whines, but his voice is laced with laughter even as Rin says, “Itadakimasu,” and attacks the meat. “Rin, that’s—hey, you need to slow down and eat your vegetables, too!”

“I eat whatever I want,” Rin replies around a mouthful of beef, groaning almost obscenely at the rich flavor bursting in his mouth, savory and tender and simply amazing. “I’m so glad I bought the premium beef, fuck.”

“We’re going to resort to ramen for the rest  of the month, aren’t we,” Makoto comments, still laughing, and Rin watches the corners of his eyes crinkle, watches the upwards curve of his lips, the way he rests his chin on his hands—watches everything but the still untouched bowl of Makoto’s rice and chopsticks. 

“I eat what I want,” Rin repeats, proud that his voice doesn’t break, and still, Makoto smiles.

 

 

 

**03.**

The warm, somber winter sun welcomes them when they step out of the house 

“It’s so cold,” Makoto whines, and Rin gives a cursory glance of Makoto’s attire—shirt and jeans, and the light green jacket he and Haruka’s gotten him last summer. So he snorts, rolls his eyes when Makoto directs a hurt look at him, and makes a show of snuggling deeper into the cashmere scarf around his neck

“Your own fault,” Rin says pointedly, shrugging. He laughs when Makoto’s lips turns downwards in a slight pout. “There’s a perfectly good winter jacket hanging behind the door, but you chose that light jacket.”

“I like this jacket,” Makoto says, not missing a beat. “You and Haru picked it out for me, all the way from Australia. Why wouldn’t I like it?”

“Sap,” Rin counters, and feels his feet twice weigh twice heavier when he tries to move them. He pauses, closes his eyes, and gathers himself together. _It’s okay,_ he tells himself. _It’s okay_. Then he makes the step forward, down the stairs of their apartment caked with piles of snow from last night snowfall.

One step by one step.

“It’s slippery, Rin, careful.”

“I—“ the word catches in his throat, and Rin hastily clears it. “I know.”

He manages to reach the bottom of the stairs with no accident—a feat he’s pretty amazed that he could do, at this rate. Rin inhales deeply, lets the winter air bites into his lungs, lets the dull pain thudding in his chest since he wakes up this morning gets numbed by the freezing air. When he feels like he’s ready, he turns slightly behind and finds Makoto’s smile.

“We’re getting groceries,” he announces, out of the blue, and Makoto’s smile turns puzzled.

“The fridge is still full though, Rin—“

“I’m in the mood to cook, so we’re getting groceries.” Rin shrugs, and then turns away to cast his gaze around. Last night’s snow must have been quite something, seeing that it piles under his feet, completely covering the frontyard and the parking lot of their apartment building, bleeding white into the gray world, glittering under the somber morning light. The snow crunches under his boots, the sound too loud in his ear, and he feels Makoto fall into steps next to him silently.

“Let’s take the long way around,” Makoto suggests, smiling up at the sky. It’s light grey but clear, with no clouds in sight. “The park is always pretty when after it snows.”

It’s a normal winter morning, and Rin decides to let the whole world lies 

“Yeah,” he says.

 

 

 

**02.**

He scrubs at his face, hard.

His face skin is red from the way he rubs at them so hard and so long, though less red than his eyes are. Everything hurts—his eyes, his cheeks, his head, his throat, _something inside his chest_. He doesn’t know he could hurt like this when he’s not even physically injured—he doesn’t remember his leg injury after the car accident even hurt this bad, back then. He’s exhausted,like he’s supposed to be after crying almost endlessly for nearly two hours, first in bed and then in the bathroom, but fuck if he cares.

He doesn’t know what to do, now, except to slide down the bathroom wall, crumpling onto a heap on the corner, folding into himself, burying his face into his arms and knees, and wishing for a second to not face the world—to never face the world ever again.

Except then he senses something move before him, and he looks up to find Makoto’s sad eyes staring back.

Rin glares.

“I’m sorry,” the smile on Makoto’s lips is sheepish, though tinted with apology. “You should’ve locked the door if you don’t want me to come in.”

Rin swallows a harsh retort of like it would matter if I did. “I’d never not want you to come in,” he mutters lowly instead, voice scratchy and exhausted.

Makoto’s eyes soften even more. “I know,” he says, quietly, but doesn’t apologize again. It’s not going to change anything, anyway. “Don’t be like this, Rin.”

Rin closes his eyes and feels like he ought to be mad. He ought to punch Makoto in the face, ought to scream at him, or at least strangle him. The nerve of him, still smiling at a time like this. Rin wants to laugh at himself for being the only one so wrecked, so destroyed, when Makoto is still here with him, not even shedding a tear.

“Like what,” Rin counters, every syllable made of lies, lies, lies lies lieslieslieslies. “Since when do you forbid me to cry when I’m frustrated, fuck you, Makoto.”

Makoto blinks. Then blinks some more. And then, finally, he ducks his head, hands going over his stomach, and starts laughing helplessly. At what, Rin doesn’t know. At Rin, perhaps, or maybe at their whole situation, or at fate itself, for throwing them a joke like this.

“Oh my god, Rin,” Makoto wheezes, breathless with laughter, but his eyes are clear and apologetic. “You had me worried there for a second.”

Rin forces his lips to curve up, forces his teeth to flash, all sharp and rogue the way he always does, but it comes out wrong, crooked and bitter and _painful_  

“You know me, Makoto. I’m always fine.”

 

 

 

**05.**

“Come to bed,” Rin says, eyes too heavy with exhaustion, but too scared to sleep. “Makoto.”

Makoto, still sitting on the edge of the bed, stares at Rin for a long time.

Rin swallows. “Please.”

“No,” Makoto shakes his head, scoots closer. “I want to.” And then he reaches out, and Rin watches in awe as Makoto pulls on their blankets—the fabric bunched in his trembling fingers as he shifts closer, closer, until he’s inches away from Rin’s fingers, and Rin makes the decision.

He grabs Makoto’s waist, pulls him forward onto the bed, and relishes the yelp Makoto makes as he tumble down on top of Rin. “Wha—Rin!”

“Slow,” Rin tells him, voice tight and breath too quick. He’s freaking out again, he knows, so he lets his hold on Makoto’s waist slacken, lets Makoto shimmy sideways and settle next to him, one arm reflexively going under Rin’s head, and Rin lets instinct guide the rest of their movement. He tucks his chin on the hollow of Makoto’s collarbone, inhales the faint scent of Makoto’s shampoo, and realizes that he’s shaking.

Makoto is silent for several moments, simply holding a shaking Rin closely against his chest, and Rin tries to count his own heartbeat—calm down, Matsuoka, fuck—but the more he think of it, the more he shakes, and the more he finds it hard to breathe. “Makoto—I’m—“

“Rin,” Makoto’s voice is soft—almost too soft to hear, and his fingers bury themselves in the strands of Rin’s hair, combing down until his thumb finds Rin’s bare nape, and absently makes a circle on Rin’s skin. “Remember when we went to Kyoto and there was this antique shop?”

Rin forces himself to go to the memory, to forget about everything and lie some more. Just a bit longer. A bit longer. “The one where we were looking for a souvenir for Rei?”

“Yeah,” Makoto is making abstract shapes on his nape, now, but Rin can’t focus enough to decipher what they are, too busy still to take deep, steady breath, too busy still to slow his heartbeat. “Remember this old lady behind the counter?”

“The one who was so nice—“ Rin chokes on the word, and Makoto’s hold tightens. “The one—so nice, who asked if we were together and was totally okay with it?”

Makoto chuckles, pulls Rin closer and buries his face into Rin’s hair, thumb never stop stroking Rin’s nape. The gesture is so familiar and comforting that Rin instinctively relaxes, going slack in Makoto’s arms. “Yeah, the one who offered to read our fortune for free and said we’d be that rarely seen happy couple.”

Rin can’t help but snort. “I doubt that was really fortune-telling.” It’s warm, and his previous exhaustion hits him harder now that he’s more relaxed, more comfortable, even as alarm sounds shrilly in his head. _Don’t fall asleep_ , it says, urges, but the rest of his body are screaming with fatigue, and sleep is pulling. “She was probably just humoring us.”

Makoto hums. “That might be,” he says, his tone wondering. “But I think she didn’t lie to us. I think she really did read our fortune.”

Just for a second, Rin tells the shrill voice in his head, the one desperately shouting at him. Just for a second, he’d close his eyes. He’s so tired, so drained, and it should be fine to close his eyes just for a second. He won’t fall asleep, he’d be awake to lie some more. “I didn’t know you believed stuff like that.”

“But Riiin,” he feels the vibration of Makoto’s whine rather than hears it. “You just wander around the store and left her with me after she read our fortune, right? So you weren’t there for the spell.”

It’s so warm. Makoto is so warm, and Rin’s eyes prickle. “What spell?”

“It’s a special spell for me, she said,” Makoto says, and his thumb never stops moving against Rin’s nape. Rin tries to focus on the shapes he’s making, but he’s too tired to catch each line Makoto carves on skin. “A very old spell, she said. A spell for one wish—that if there’s one impossible thing I ever wished strong enough, if I wished for just one miracle to happen, then I could have it.”

At this, Rin cracks an eye open heavily, and looks up. Makoto’s face is a blur through the tears, but Rin is too tired for even a sob. “Did you have your wish granted?”

Makoto smiles, but it’s wobbly and sad. “Just now. Rin—“ he closes his eyes, and something painful flashes across his face, but his thumb is still stroking. “I wished to touch you.”

Rin stares and stares and stares—

“Stupid Makoto,” he hears himself say, voice barely above whisper, syllables broken and scattered. “What are you doing, wasting a miracle on that kind of wish.”

Makoto chuckles, thick and wet, before leaning down and catches Rin lips in a too-sweet kiss. Rin closes his eyes, lets the tears fall, and wishes he could lie better 

 _I love you_ , Makoto spells against Rin’s nape, over and over and over and over.

 _I love you_ , Rin  thinks, and cries each syllable of the words with hot tears and silent sobs.

 

 

 

**01.**

“Wake up, Rin.”

That’s not right, Rin thinks, because Makoto shouldn’t be home. He should be halfway across the globe, touring South America with the rest of his university friends, braving hidden beaches and perhaps jungles. He’s still half-asleep, probably, or manages to sleep-call Makoto last night, or something, and the line is still on. His phone credit would be frightening this month, he supposes.

“Rin,” but it’s Makoto’s voice, close to his ear, and he sounds so, so sad. “Please wake up.”

So he does., because Rin hates it when Makoto sounds so sad.

He wishes he’d never done so.

Because Makoto is sitting on the edge of their bed, soft green eyes looking down on him sadly, a small apologetic smile on his lips, the pale winter morning sun light shine through his transparent form, illuminating the nearly non-existent edges of his figures.

Makoto looks at him as Rin looks at him, mind and brain and body disconnected from one another.

And before Rin knows it, a broken sob escapes from his lips, and everything in him breaks into pieces.

 

 

 

**00.**

_“If you weren’t there, when I died, I’d come to you.”_

_“You’re so morbid. What, come to me as a ghost and pretend you’re still alive?”_

_“For a day. I’d have Rin all to myself, before I have to go. Ask you ridiculous things, maybe.”_

_“Like what, a feast? Kinky things—don’t blush, this is your idea. Though if you’re a ghost you won’t be able to do much, will you?”_

_“It doesn’t matter what we’d do. I don’t want to go without kissing Rin for the last time.”_

_“Sap.”_

_“Right back at you, Rinrin.”_

 

 

 

**06.**

Rin wakes up to an empty bed and his phone buzzing relentlessly under his pillow.

Moving itself is such a chore, but Rin manages to shove his hand underneath the pillow and pulls out the buzzing device. An unknown number. He closes his eyes, slides his thumb across the screen, and says, “Hello, Matsuoka speaking.”

 _“Ah,”_ the voice, foreign and cold, says. _“Matsuoka Rin-san? You are listed as the emergency contact of Tachibana Makoto, one of our students. Excuse me, Matsuoka-san, may I ask where you are?”_

“Bed,” Rin sighs, breathes, and _aches_.

_“I see. Please remain calm, and I’m very sorry to have called you so early in the morning. There had been a bus accident on the way to the airport for the students’ flight home, and Tachibana-san, unfortunately—“_

Rin shudders. It hits him full-force—Makoto’s smile, Makoto’s soft eyes, Makoto’s sad look, Makoto’s lies, _lieslieslieslies_ all lies, they have both lied, the whole world had lied, for one full day, and Rin loses. He knows, he’s aware, and yet, even after all the pain, it still hurts, and Rin is still not fine.

He thinks he won’t be, for a very long time. Forever, perhaps. 

_“—for emergency surgery, but after almost fifteen hours, the doctors couldn’t do anything else. We are sorry to inform you that this morning, at three-fourty-nine, Tachibana-san has—“_

The tears come like a flood gate being opened, endless and desperate and painful, and Rin curls into himself, curls into the spot where Makoto was last night, spelling I-love-you against Rin’s skin and kissing Rin with cold lips that should have tasted like nabe, except Makoto didn’t eat any because he couldn’t—ghost don’t eat, Rin thinks amost hysterically—and he’d been cold because the idiot had gone out only in the light green jacket even though it’s winter, and oh, that must have been what Makoto is wearing when the accidents happened, miles and miles and miles away from where Rin is. 

Miles away from home, but he’d come home anyway, in a form where light could shine through him, and lied with Rin for a full day. 

_“Matsuoka-san, do you need me to call someone?”_

“No,” Rin gasps, but the word dissolves into bursts of sobbing, too hard for him to control, too painful for him to want to control. He pushes the phone away, curls up and bunches the sheets and blankets, seeks out the remnants of Makoto’s warmth last night. 

Rin hates having to make the last lie. 

**\-----o0oFinitoo0o-----**

**Author's Note:**

> Happy (????) Third Day of MakoRin Week!
> 
> (Also if you're confused, the drabbles go as numbered orz)


End file.
